


Yearning

by sercotella



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Bottom Stan Marsh, Comfort, Crushes, Drunken Kissing, Frottage, House Party, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Post-Canon, Sexual Tension, Teasing, Top Craig Tucker, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25228189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sercotella/pseuds/sercotella
Summary: A recollection of the three occasions that caused Craig's breath to hitch in his throat that night.
Relationships: Stan Marsh & Craig Tucker, Stan Marsh/Craig Tucker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 78





	Yearning

The first time that Craig finds himself unable to control his breathing is when he’s standing in the back garden of Bebe’s house, a wild house party happening indoors, taking an elongated drag of his cigarette as his friend casually explains that Stan Marsh just blabbered in the kitchen about having a massive crush on him. Craig chokes on the nicotine smoke and Jimmy bursts out laughing, swearing on his life that he wouldn’t lie about something like this – in fact, it was about time Craig got on with someone so it might as well be someone he was also crushing on beforehand.

Craig sputters at the idea, putting his cigarette out with the heel of his shoe. He wasn’t in the mood for pranks and couldn’t really believe that the ever-so-straight Stanley Marsh would have a slightest inkling towards him. Craig’s budding feelings towards Stan were covered up as soon as they surfaced and were skillfully used to instead patch the boys’ fragile relationship into a somewhat-friendly acquaintance level over time and a lot of effort. After all, Stan was straight, right? So what was the point of even trying?

Heading inside, Craig enters the kitchen through the glass double doors and immediately spots Stan at the kitchen table, about to throw a ping-pong ball into one of the red plastic cups lined up in front of him. Stan notices him too, freezing completely once their eyes meet, as if he knew that Craig knew, and the surrounding group of friends look to them with slight confusion. 

Craig huffs and walks past his schoolmates into the living room. He'd need something to chill him out, and fast, feeling slightly unsettled at the pair of eyes still lingering on the back of his neck.

\---

The second time Craig’s breath is taken away that night is when he finds himself hovering above the lying form of Stan Marsh. Stan’s eyes are half-lidded with his mouth slightly agape, his chest rising fast as if it couldn’t get enough air, staring at Craig with such intensity that it almost knocks him over. 

The usual bustling of the house party no longer matters in that moment – the music seems muffled as it reaches Craig’s ears, the lights overhead losing their hue and any movement around them dissolving into needlessness.

Stan’s slightly tipsy at this point, still in that woozy, premature drunken state where people seem more attractive, jokes are funnier and self-confidence grows too much - in the midst of this, the idea of trying to take Craig on was born. Stan’s insistent tugs at Craig’s clothing only worked to annoy him, and one quick shove tips Stan right on the kitchen floor, but not before taking Craig down along with him.

After falling right on top of the boy, Craig proceeds to lift himself up with his two hands on the side of Stan’s face, looking down at the boy for some sort of a fucking explanation. 

Stan’s fingers are still tightly grasping onto the front of Craig’s shirt, and Craig could almost feel a slight tug of being pulled even closer in. Stan refuses to let go, even when faced with Craig’s burning eyes, seemingly enjoying the proximity. He moves his legs upwards slightly, letting Craig’s own form lie more comfortably between them.

Craig’s brain melts to jelly at the sensation of feeling another pair of hips directly under his own, so fucking close, very much feeling the jutting edges of said hips on the sides. Without even being able to stop himself, Craig throws his head back to let out a choked gasp, his Adam’s apple bobbing along and his arms shaking slightly underneath him.

Stan’s own breath hitches in his throat at the mere sight of this, never having seen another man reacting to him this way. Craig’s eyes land back to meet Stan’s and just can’t look away – said eyes almost seem to shine in the most impossible shade of cyan. Maybe it was the weed he smoked an hour prior, or Stan’s alcohol-infused breath that messed with his mind, he couldn’t tell now – he just couldn’t stop himself from inching closer with a strong urge to examine those eyes closer. 

What would they look like if he said this? How would they change if he did this?

Those questions would remain mysteries once he feels himself being lifted off by a pair of Clyde’s sweaty hands. Craig’s ears suddenly work again, catching onto the drunken laughter of his friends who suddenly seemed to have appeared beside him to haul him off the floor, luckily only assuming that both boys were drunk and didn’t know what they were doing.

\---

The third time Craig’s breath hitches in his throat that evening is in one of Bebe’s spare rooms, which she reluctantly unlocked just for his own use. He could feel his head beginning to ache from the booming music and hoped that it’d go away with some rest, only to hear the bedroom door open and close quickly, with a disheveled Stan Marsh standing in the doorway. 

Craig sits up in surprise as the other brunette takes a few slow strides towards him, his gaze clouded but somehow still determined to be here, in this moment. Testing the waters, Craig’s legs spread slightly and Stan takes the opportunity to stand right in between them, as close as he could be, letting Craig stare right up into those damned bright eyes once again. 

Stan’s hand gently lands on his neck, thumb grazing his jawline and slight stubble, and Craig’s eyes flutter shut for a moment to enjoy the rare sensation of another person touching him like this, with a hand so soft and so comforting. Without thinking he inches closer, grasping Stan’s wrist with both of his hands as if to tell him to keep his hand there and never retract it. 

Craig realizes that he must look really touch-starved right now, and hell, he was, but he wasn’t about to complain if Stan Marsh sought him out himself and especially when Stan’s thumb grazes over Craig’s parted bottom lip in such a delicious way. He tilts his head to the side in visible bliss as Stan’s other hand digs through his messy hair, his fingertips running over Craig’s scalp gently until Craig just can’t help himself and pulls the other boy right into bed. 

He acts quickly, flipping Stan onto his back, his hips gluing themselves right onto Stan’s in that delightful position between his legs again. Stan sighs loudly, wrapping his arms around Craig’s torso, his hands on his shoulder blades, pulling him down until Craig’s lips land directly on his.

Stan’s lips are soft and sweet, tasting of strawberry cider he drank earlier on, and Craig immediately melts into the kiss like butter in the sun. Their kiss is clumsy at first but they quickly find their rhythm, their tongues tangling together as Craig’s hands snake down to the edge of Stan’s shirt, pulling the corners slightly upwards. Stan gets the hint and breaks the kiss for a brief moment, pulling his shirt over his head and reaching over to take Craig’s off too before lying back down to let Craig ravage him with kisses.

The boys’ torsos press against each other and the sheer warmth coming from Stan makes it difficult for Craig to keep himself composed. He peppers Stan’s neck with hungry pecks and bites as his hips begin to slowly, experimentally, rock against the boy underneath him. Stan’s breathing turns erratic, his nails running through the taller boy’s bare back, whispering his name gently into the night like a prayer. 

Craig lifts his head and looks down at the sight below him – even in the dim lighting he can still see Stan’s flushed cheeks and messy hair that spreads around his face like a halo. It’s those damned bright eyes that captivate him again and he’s just unable to look anywhere else, until Stan surprises him and leans up to kiss him again. Craig melts once more, loving the smallest gasps of air Stan clings to in-between kisses, feeling a prominent bulge digging into his thigh already, his own very much following suit.

Craig hovers mere centimetres above Stan’s bottom lip, grazing it with his teeth to receive a strangled moan from the boy below him. He takes a moment to lean up further, looking over Stan’s breathless form again, feeling like he’ll never have enough of the sight and desperately not wanting the moment to end. Stan’s hands land at the waistband of Craig’s trousers, pulling ever-so-slightly downwards with an almost pleading expression and Craig smirks, obviously intent on giving the boy below him what he wants. 

He’ll only hold onto the hope that both of them will remember this by tomorrow.


End file.
